<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>The Rose and the Dagger by Silvermoon (yellowrabbit)</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29578080">The Rose and the Dagger</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellowrabbit/pseuds/Silvermoon'>Silvermoon (yellowrabbit)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A Song of Ice and Fire &amp; Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Forbidden Love, Pre-Canon, before andals, forbidden relationship, history doesn't remember, implied brother/sister incest, non-canon-ish, pre-andal invasion, pre-valyrian invasion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 23:35:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,338</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29578080</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellowrabbit/pseuds/Silvermoon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When I was a child, my mother told me this tale.<br/>That once, before the time of dragons, before the time of blood and iron thrones, before even the Andals came and invaded our land, there was a king, born in the North with the blood of wolves in his veins</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>original snow character/original male character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Rose and the Dagger</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Had this idea for a while, just finished placing all the details. Enjoy! (Or not)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> When I was a child, my mother told me this tale.</p><p>That once, before the time of dragons, before the time of blood and iron thrones, before even the Andals came and invaded our land, there was a king, born in the North with the blood of wolves in his veins; he was born so long ago, history no longer remembers his name. He was kind, brave and generous, much like his predecessors and those that were destined to succeed him.</p><p>And like his predecessors, tradition dictated that he father an heir and a spare for his kingdom. </p><p>Naturally, the king married and conceived a child with his queen. At the same time, a maid that once was involved with the king was revealed to be pregnant from the king’s seed as well. Both women delivered a babe, but died shortly afterwards. You see, the North was a harsh place, and there were no maesters nor any knowledge that could help save a mother from the birthing bed. </p><p>And so the king was left alone with two motherless children: one a boy, destined to become king after his father; the other a girl born on the wrong side of the blood, a bastard she was. </p>
<hr/><p>As different in blood and birth they were, the siblings were inseparable; their father raised them together. You see, bastards, while lower in station, were not as hated until the Andals came along. They grew up together and were as close as siblings can be, if not closer. </p><p>He was her greatest protector when people scorned her birth and stature; she was his staunchest supporter when people doubted his worth as heir apparent. </p><p>In time, the boy would grow up to be a strong, fierce warrior, unmatched in battle and ferocity. A worthy heir to the Winter Throne, with brown hair and hard flinty eyes, he was expected to make a fine match for himself. After all, one day, he would take over his aging father's throne, as he had been groomed to do so his whole life. The girl, meanwhile, would grow up to be an extraordinary beauty, with shining eyes, full red lips, and thick raven hair. Natural born, she was, but she might have well been born a princess. She was claimed to embody the beauty of the winter roses of the north, which, like many daughters of the wolves, were said to be her favorite flowers. There was no equal to her; no other maiden in the North rivaled her beauty.</p><p>Many suitors of all stations, noble, low-born, and peasants came far and wide to Winterfell in hopes of winning her heart and hand in marriage. Yet despite their considerable charm, many gifts, and grand attempts to woo her, no one ever won her heart.</p><p>And so time passed by; the boy became a man, the girl a maid. The time for two of them to find their own betrothals came ever closer. But the two siblings did not heed this. Brother and sister were even closer than before, their bond stronger than ever.  As a symbol of her love, the sister would gift her brother a dagger. A dagger like no other, it had a hilt in the shape of a wolf entwined with a rose, and the blade was covered with words writ in the Old Tongue. The translation has been lost to the winds of time, but my mother told me that it went something along the lines of <em>“my heart with you, always.”</em> Naturally, the prince cherished the gift and carried it with him on his person, to his sister’s delight. They were happy. But they could not remain happy forever. </p>
<hr/><p>One day, on the maiden's five and ten nameday, a wildling boy from beyond the Wall was captured during a failed raid. He was as unruly as his red curls, as lean as a horse, and was as uncouth as a pirate. The wilding was brought before the King and his court, with his son and daughter in attendance. The King and his heir were quick to sentence the wildling to death, as was the custom in the North. Wildlings were not given mercy then, as they do now. The wildling glared at the King, and then the prince. His ice-blue eyes promised that he would not go down quietly in front of the “Southrons”. The King prepared to take his head. Even in the old days, the Old way was our way.</p><p>But the King's daughter, kindhearted as she was, had no wish to see blood spilt on her nameday; she begged her father to spare the boy, which he readily, if somewhat reluctantly, did out of fatherly love for her. Yes, little one, the king had a duty to uphold. But it was the day of his daughter’s birth, and on that day, he was a father first, a king second. Perhaps if he was a king first, he could have averted it all…</p><p>So the king, after much deliberation, chose to grant mercy. The wilding would live but could not be let free. And so the wildling was forced to swear an oath of loyalty to the Starks in exchange for his life and was made to serve the maiden as her loyal guard. </p>
<hr/><p>Initially the wilding was begrudging; he crudely remarked on the need to protect a <em>"soft Southron wrench,"</em> and was crass and rude to the girl when he could get away with it. After all, though she was a bastard, she was the daughter of the king, and sister to the heir; the North would not let any insult to her go unpunished. Yes, sweetling, the maiden was lucky that so many of the North was loyal to her through her blood. But blood was not always a good thing...</p><p>But things would change between the maiden and the wildling. In time, slowly but surely, the wilding boy grew fond of the maiden. Likewise, the maiden, after three moons of enduring his insults and constant belittlement, developed deep affection for him. She secretly taught him to read and write, how to pen letters and poems, even how to spell his name. In turn, he showed her the beauty of the wild, free North that he knew and loved. It was there that he found and plucked a snowdrop from the ground. They are the first flowers to bloom in winter, and the last to die when spring begins. I know not the words he said to her when he gave her the flower; but I know that whatever it was, it caused her to wear the flower in her hair and declare it her favorite flower behind winter roses.</p><p>Before they knew it, the pair had fallen deeply in love and desired to be together.</p><p>There was only one problem; the maiden knew her father, however affectionate he was to her, would never let his only (if base-born) daughter be with a wildling. The blood of  wolves did not mingle with wildlings; it was unheard of, and the King would never break with tradition nor decorum. </p><p>There was only one solution: the two of them had to to run away--forever. </p><p>Yes, sweetling. Forever. The maiden could not tell her family that she loved a wilding--it would have shamed her family. As I said before, wildlings were not given mercy then. For the wildling to have dishonored the maiden, it would have surely meant death. No mercy could possibly save him, no matter how much the maiden begged. </p><p>So it was with a heavy heart that the maiden prepared to leave her family. She could not bid farewell to them--to do so would have broken her heart. She did not even whisper good bye to her own brother, dear as he was to her. Perhaps it had been better that way...</p>
<hr/><p>The lovers chose to leave on a day when the clouds had darken. Dark clouds meant snow, and snow meant a day of feasting, drinking and staying warm with Northern brethren. No one in their right mind would ever turn down an invitation to feast with family and friends, not when the harsh weather of the North meant every living moment had to be treasured, lest it be their last. No one would notice the two slip away into the dark and into freedom. At least, that is what I heard was supposed to happen. A happy ending if there ever was to be one.</p><p>But, my child. The North is an unforgiving place. You know this well.</p><p>My mother told me the maiden had shown up at the place where they had planned to meet. </p><p>The wildling was late, but the maiden was undaunted. She knew he would come. He had promised to. Had sworn it on their love. </p><p>And so the maiden waited. She waited. And waited. </p><p>She waited so long that the snowdrop in her hair froze and fell out of her hair. She waited so long, her warm cloak became wet from the blowing snow and her fingers grew cold. She waited even as her lips grew chapped and the hope in her heart shriveled to nothing.</p><p>But it did not matter how long she waited. </p><p>Her lover did not show up.</p><p>He had abandoned her. <em>Used</em> her. Seduced her so he could escape back to his home.</p><p>She had been a <em>fool</em>.</p><p>The maiden’s heart was shattered. How could she love again? How could she go back to the castle where her father reigned? How could she look her brother in the eye and not feel shame for bringing dishonor to her family?</p><p>In the end, it did not matter. While she was gone, the prince noticed her absence from the feasts. With his father’s blessing, the prince had sent out a search party to rescue her.</p><p>The prince found her kneeling on the snow, shivering from her wet cloak, with frozen tear tracks on her cheeks. </p><p>The prince understood what had happened. He forgave her; she was his beloved sister and she could do no harm in his eyes. </p><p>With much coaxing, the prince brought his sister back to the castle to warm up and explain her acorns to their father. It was only through the strength of his love that the king forgave his daughter for her actions. He promised to avenge her dishonor and find the wildling who had ruined her and kill him. If only he had known the truth…</p>
<hr/><p>Moons passed by, and the consequences of the tryst showed. The maiden’s belly swelled large with a babe, which she bore on a harsh, snowy day. </p><p>The babe was much like her father. She was kissed by fire, with the same fierce ice-cold eyes that her mother fell in love with. It was through her birth that the maiden, now a mother, forgave her former lover for his deception. She pleaded with first her father, then her brother, to call off the search. To forgive, and let him live. </p><p>They refused. </p><p>“Sweet sister, this man has ruined you. He needs to pay,” was all the prince would tell his sister. “I vow it on my dagger, the one you gave me all those years ago.”</p><p>It was then that the sister noticed the dagger was not with him. “Where is your dagger, brother?”</p><p>The prince replied, “Where it needs to be,” and shooed her away. She should have pressed him harder...</p>
<hr/><p>The manhunt lasted for four moons, during which time the sister hoped that her lover would never be found. He never was, and it was thought that the wildling had gone back to the land beyond the Wall, far beyond the reach of the king. The sister was so relieved; her beloved was safe, even if she never saw him again. If only she had known the truth…</p><p>Winter gave way to spring eventually, and as the last of the winter roses died and the snowdrops began to droop, the prince at last chose a bride. The prince had many suitable maidens that courted him. He could have chosen any of them.</p><p>Instead, he chose his own sister, to the surprise of many, including his father. </p><p>You see, sweetling, intermarriage was not as looked down then, not between bastards and the trueborn siblings. We did not marry like each other like the dragons did unless our blood was thin and needed to be strong again.</p><p>The king did not object; though it was unexpected, he believed his son had made a wise choice. His natural daughter had proven fertile and she was a good match for her brother. She had always been able to counsel him, rein him his actions, and protect him from his worst impulses. But above all, she already provided an heir. The king was ailing, and needed to be sure his son's hold on his future kingdom was secured.</p><p>And so the prince married his sister, and, after his father died, ruled his kingdom with his sister-wife and queen by his side. It was a peaceful marriage, so I was told.</p>
<hr/><p>What’s that, sweetling? The wildling? What happened to him?</p><p>The queen never knew. I would be lying if I said she had forgotten him. He was the father to her beloved daughter, and, moreover, the first man she ever loved. Though she lived happily with her brother-husband, she never stopped loving the men who taught her to love snowdrops. First loves are special that way....</p><p>She never did find out what happened to him. Perhaps it was for the better.</p><p>You see, my love, it was not until centuries later, that the body of a man was found buried in the snow. The snow had kept him cold but failed to preserve his flesh, leaving nothing behind but his bones. </p><p>The only thing that could identify him were the strands of red on his skull, and the dagger protruding from his ribs, marked with a wolf entwined with a rose.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>